The Magic Is Out There

On the 7th day of travel through Tibet, I arrived to a Monastery lost within mountains inhabited by 120 teen monks being watched after by a dozen of senior lamas. I was astonished by the beauty of the place and mystic charm of the situation but, once again, the human relations were about to teach me a great lesson, this time I was to find out the language of the soul.
Right on my arrival I found myself surrounded by a big group of the young fellows that, moved by their curiosity, were asking me all at once unstoppably. There was lot to say and to share, but the language barrier seemed to block it. It was almost certainly the first time they saw Westerner and it started to be denoted a bit of frustration in their faces due to not being able to communicate with me, so I decided it was the moment to take action; I unsheathed my harmonic and I started to play and to dance. Their response was unforgettable; they all started laughing, yelling and clapping. Then, one of them showed me a book with images of animals and I started to perform their sounds, which made them explode with laughter. Afterwards, some of them started to re-create their own version of the onomatopoeias, finding out that we conceive differently sounds that are made in the same way in nature.
The young monks offered me hosting and food and I ended up staying for three days, during which, despite of not talking the same language, we never stopped communicating. Moreover, one morning, three of them woke me up inviting to go for 'a walk', what happened to be a five-hour climb under a snow storm.
There was a dozen of teen monks that I got along the best with gathering to farewell me. Then, one came closer and, while touching his chest on the heart side, extended his other hand to give me the necklace that was hanging in his neck. If I had said ‘bye’ or ‘thanks’ they would not have understood, but neither was it necessary nor it would have been worth my feeling. Instead, the guys and I connected through our eyes, that captured both my endless gratitude and their profound satisfaction for this mutual adventure of human immersion that we just shared together.
I left the monastery pondering about a World without words; obviously life would lose charm not being able to tell a poem, listen to an opera or saying ‘I love you’. Nonetheless, if the only language was the one of the soul, we would empower our body expression and human interaction. We will surely talk less, but most likely we would say more.